


the moral implications of lawn decor

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Home Decorating, Implied blood kink, Kissing, M/M, Post Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23136040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: Isaac renovates his future castle.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Isaac Laforeze
Comments: 14
Kudos: 82
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2020





	the moral implications of lawn decor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychomachia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/gifts).



> hope you enjoy

Isaac finds the castle late at night. 

Dracula's son isn't there to great him. Maybe he abandoned it, maybe he's out hunting, maybe he's dead. There are two bodies outside, on pikes, foreign. Who's ever taken up residence clearly doesn't want to be bothered, and thats' respectable enough. 

He leaves his horde outside and takes his long walk through the castle. Memories upon memories flood him, and it's still just as cold as it's always been when every window seems to have shattered in the blast when it was moved. 

Dracula's study is untouched, practically identical to when Isaac was sent through his mirror. His hands linger on the desk, feet kicking at the reflective shards on the floor. Everything is still and quiet. If he closes his eyes he can hear the crackle of the hearth and feel Dracula's cold hand on the back of his neck. 

He really does miss him, it seems. 

And then the door opens. 

“Not attacking?” Isaac asks, and turns. More like his mother than his father, but very pretty in a European sort of way. 

“You're a forgemaster.” 

“Yes.” 

“My father's forgemaster?” 

“Yes.” He's in a nightgown, hair sleep mussed, clearly just awoken. But if he listens he can hear the metal of a sword twisting in the air, just outside the door. 

“You weren't here. When we- when I took the castle.” 

“He sent me away.” And Isaac kicks a shard in the vampire's- no- in the damphyr's direction. “He thought he was protecting me.” And then he pulls out his forging blade, let's it glint in the moonlight where the damphyr can see it. 

“I suppose you're implying you didn't need it.” 

“Yes.” He says again. “And you killed him.” The damphyr- Adrian or Alucard- smiles. It's a sad sort of thing, and it doesn't really reach his eyes. “And now you've taken after him.” 

“Have I?” 

“I like your lawn decoration.” Isaac watches him closely. He twists his blade in the air, listens to it ring in the night air. “Very seasonally appropriate.” 

“They hurt me.” He says and moves towards him- past him- to sit behind his father's desk. “It was justified.” 

Isaac follows him, and looks him over. Thin silver scars zigzag his entire body. A glance at the door where a thing blade hangs in the air, waiting for any reason. He's quick but he doubts he's quite quick enough. 

“Isn't it always, with you Tepes men.” Isaac sits on the desk. He'd never allow himself this with Dracula, but now with this- 

“Is this just a stop for you? On some grand tour of murder? Or revenge?” 

“I have some destinations in mind. I can start with you, if you like.” 

Alucard shrugs and settles his head down on the desk. 

“Feel free to try.” 

Isaac runs a hand through his hair, tugging it a bit so that Alucard is tilted the way he would like him to be, and then pressing his lip up, just to see his fangs. Not as sharp, but he supposes it will do. He presses a thumb against a fang and doesn't wince when it breaks skin, though Alucard does hiss and try and jerk back, more from shock than anything. His tongue does lap at the red though, because of course it does. 

His eyes go bloodshot and his nails extend into claws. 

Maybe he could give to a little sentimentality. 

Maybe just a bit. 

…

The thing about Alucard is that he's obnoxiously lonely. 

Some people, most of the people Isaac every willingly associated with anyway, were all alone, but they carried it with a quiet acceptance and a degree of decorum. They were alone, but they weren't lonely. The Traitor, maybe was lonely and that's why he shacked up with who he decided to shack up with, but even he didn't trail after Isaac from room to room, begging for attention in silence. 

Well, he wasn't quite that much of a kicked dog, but it was close. 

They settle into an odd sort of rhythm.

The castle, Isaac's future castle he's decided, was slowly being rebuilt by his horde. They weren't exactly made for hard labor, but they are all pleased to help, in their own way. At least that's what they tell him. 

Alucard cooks for him. 

It's something of a fixation. 

And astonishingly pathetic. 

“I need more bodies.” He says, while his forge is being renovated. “Let me take the ones you have.” 

“No.” Alucard leans on a wall, his sword on his hip. “I need them to stay where they are.” 

“Don't you think the night children are enough of a warning.” 

“They're for my own mental health.” 

“Is that what you're calling it.” He could talk to Alucard about philosophy and morals and the like, he's well read enough, and he can talk to him about how much of a disappointment man kind of mass has been, because clearly Alucard has been burned before, and he can talk about construction, because for as shitty as the castle has been held up Alucard has an astonishing amount of opinions for his childhood home. 

But Alucard won't tell him about the two in the yard. 

So he's curious, to some degree. 

He lets Alucard bite him, for his trouble. 

Better keep the brat happy, he thinks, when he shoves up the leather of his sleeve, and holds his arm out. The slight pinpricks of pain are next to nothing, and Isaac runs a hand through Alucard's hair because he seems to like that. 

Alucard cries for him, when he does. 

…

“There's some one in the woods.” Alucard whispers against his ear and points a finger. 

Alucard is out getting dinner and Isaac had followed him because he was getting curious how Alucard managed to haul a full meal out of nothing. Isaac stares at Alucard first, so close and no heat coming off of him even in the soft afternoon sun, and then in the direction he had pointed. 

“Go get it then.” He says and Alucard, full of Isaac's blood, content and enamored and happy that someone is paying him any sort of mind, bolts into the trees. Isaac busies himself, staring down at the warren Alucard must have been fetching his rabbits from. 

The moment is quiet, a breeze rustles the tree leaves above him, and maybe there's a brook near by. 

And then a body drops like a wet sack of rocks right next to him, a rifle in a twisted knot beside it. 

Alucard is covered in blood, eyes wild and dangerous. 

Appealing. 

“Good boy.” Isaac takes Alucard's face, fingers digging into his jaw tightly. Alucard opens his mouth with a hiss, blood dripping down his lips, and Isaac kisses him. There's a moment of stillness, where Alucard is rigid in his grasp before he kisses back, nicking Isaac's lip. His own metallic taste coats his mouth, and when they separate it drips down his front. “You're drenched.” 

“I did what you told me.” Alucard pulls away, and Isaac is just as sticky now. “How did you think it would end?” 

“Don't get defensive,” Isaac sweeps a bit of his hair out of the way, a few strands not tacky and red yet, “It was a compliment.” 

“Oh.” 

“Come here.” He sighs, and let's Alucard wrap around him, insuring that any part of clean clothing didn't remain that way. “You're not going to scare me away. Have you seen the company I keep?” 

Alucard doesn't say anything for the rest of the evening.

The body grows wings and gets right to work on tiling. 

…

There's a little bit of a mob outside, and they all look rather cross. 

“I told you you should take the decorations down.” Alucard makes a noncommittal sound from his bed. They've utterly ruined the sheets and it's such a pain to teach monsters how to do laundry. “I suppose you're going to make me do the work?” 

It's not like he can move, as blood drunk as he is, so Isaac sighs and lifts his forge knife from the nightstand. 

He makes the long trip down to the front door, only to be greeted by yelling. So business as usual.

“We want the vampire.” 

That gives him pause- the night horde is hanging all around them- literally one of the bigger ones is hauling structural support up to the fourth floor right in front of them, and that's what they're complaining about?

“Why?” 

“Because-” One of the ones up front pipes up. “The church said if we get them a vampire they'll cure our crops.” 

“Did they?” He crosses his arms, leaning in the doorway. 

He would, but he's grown rather fond of Alucard lately. 

The slaughter is senseless, but all together quick and he's only barely hurt, just s scrape on the cheek. By the time Alucard stumbles down to the foyer, Isaac has five more night children and Alucard has eight more lawn decorations. 

He gets a kiss for his efforts. 


End file.
